


Explanations

by cmshaw



Category: due South
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-10
Updated: 2002-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmshaw/pseuds/cmshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg is in a position to appreciate this more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Explanations

Meg pulled her glasses off reflexively as the door to her office opened. "Constable Fraser?" she asked, just as the person in her doorway said, "Fraser?"

Meg squinted toward the door. The sun had set and the Consulate had grown quite dark while she worked; outside of the warm glow cast by her desk lamp the room was cool and shadowy. The person intruding upon her was not one of her subordinates, though; she was clearly female and American, although Meg couldn't quite place the voice.

She stood up. "Who is there?" she called.

Whoever it was walked in and closed the door. "Sorry," she said, and stopped at the edge of the light. She was beautiful; dark hair curled around sultry eyes and deep red lips then brushed over bare shoulders, and the low neckline of her shirt drew the eye down to full, full breasts....

"Ms. Vecchio," Meg said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What do you want?"

Detective Vecchio's little sister looked her up and down, then adjusted the strap of her purse and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Well," she said, and smiled, taking a step forward. "I was going to surprise Benton, but I think," and she took another step forward, forcing Meg to back into her desk to maintain a polite distance, "I think you might appreciate it more." She put a hand on Meg's shoulder. "I mean, we're both women here, Margaret. It's Margaret, right?"

Meg swallowed. "Just Meg," she said.

The other woman beamed. "Great! And I'm just Frannie, okay?" Her thumb trailed along Meg's collar, and Meg shivered. There was something surreal about looking up from her quiet evening's work to find herself being seduced by a loud flashy American. Frannie's other hand cupped her breast and rubbed lightly at a nipple. Usually Chicago was surreal in far less pleasant ways. Meg closed her eyes, leaned forward, and found Frannie's lips parted and waiting for her. "Mmm," Frannie said into her mouth. "Mmm, this is great." She pulled back a little, then slid a thigh between Meg's knees and leaned in again. "You like this, Meg?"

Meg opened her eyes and looked down. "What--?" she said, putting her hands on Frannie's shoulders and pushing her back. That couldn't be a _gun_, it couldn't be a--a--Frannie _was_ a woman, wasn't she?

Frannie grinned, pulled up the hem of her dress, and set Meg's hand on her thigh. "That was gonna be my surprise for Benton," she said.

Meg slid her hand cautiously upward. It was plastic, of course, as she should have known from the feel through Frannie's dress, held in place with a leather harness. "Ah," she said, and then, "Constable Fraser--?" She stopped. "Well, _that_ explains a lot," she said, although she oughtn't have been thinking about her subordinate in such a position at all.

"It does, doesn't it?" Frannie said. She put her hands on Meg's shoulders and pushed her hips against Meg's curious hand. "Mmm," she said again.

Meg pushed one fingertip between the harness and Frannie's body, finding the space tight and wet and hot. Frannie twisted against her and said, breathlessly, "This explains a lot too, right?"

Meg swallowed. "I don't know what you mean," she whispered. It was very hot in here; she should consider using a lower wattage lightbulb in her desk lamp.

Frannie breathed hot in her ear and growled, "On your knees, Mountie."

There were advantages to living and breathing a regimental lifestyle. You rose up the ranks of the RCMP quickly. You enjoyed your work. You occasionally frightened people, which was always good for a laugh on a slow day. On the other hand, Meg knew, all it took was someone with a better command voice and you were down on your knees before you knew quite what had happened.

She looked up at Frannie. For a moment Frannie almost seemed surprised, but then the lighting was poor. One hand cradled Meg's cheek while the other bunched up the material of Frannie's dress and lifted it out of the way.

_Red,_ Meg thought, _sparkly_. The plastic, warmed by the heat of Frannie's thighs, parted her lips and pushed inward. Meg rested her hands on Frannie's hips where the harness straps cut into Frannie's smooth skin and leaned forward, filling her mouth. From somewhere above her head, Frannie groaned. There were ridges and whorls under her tongue; fascinated, she worked her mouth up and down the shaft to outline them.

Frannie stroked Meg's hair. "Wow," she said, "this is so hot." She sounded giddy.

Meg brought one hand down between Frannie's legs and worked her thumb underneath the harness until she found Frannie's clit. Frannie bucked forward and Meg tightened her lips to avoid choking. Frannie's hand was pulling at her hair now, jerking back and forth as Meg rubbed her thumb in small circles. It hurt, but a Mountie shouldn't care about pain, so Meg didn't. She kept her hand moving and bobbed her head to bring her lips and her hand closer together.

"Oh," Frannie moaned. "Oh, suck me, yes, so good, si, si -- o! o! Io arrivo! Si!" She shuddered wetly against Meg's hand. "Dio!"

Meg slid her hand free and leaned back until her mouth was empty. She was breathing hard and aching to put her hands on herself, but she only licked, lightly and teasingly, at the plastic bobbing against her lips. She could wait for Frannie to catch her breath.

"Stand up," Frannie told her quietly. Meg rose to her feet and was pushed back against the side of her desk. Warm hands fumbled her skirt up around her waist and then Frannie just held her there, half-exposed, and kissed her again.

Meg closed her eyes and braced her arms on the desk and let Frannie kiss her. Full breasts brushed teasingly against her chest and Frannie's bare thighs pressed roughly against her pantyhose, but if she let go to touch she'd fall backwards.

Frannie pressed one hand between her legs and rubbed, hard, and Meg rolled her head back, biting down on her lower lip until it hurt. She would not beg. She would not. When Frannie stepped away again she kicked off her shoes and immediately began to strip out of her hose.

"Yes," Frannie hissed.

Meg looked up. Frannie had one hand closed around the shaft of her strap-on and she was stroking it slowly, enticingly. Meg yanked down her underwear and stepped out of them. When she stood up, Frannie's other hand was between Meg's legs again, sliding sweetly over her cunt, making her gasp, and coming away wet. Frannie wrapped that hand around the plastic too and rubbed until it glistened.

"You want me," Frannie said.

"_Yes_," Meg said, barely catching the "sir" before she spoke it aloud.

Frannie put her hands on Meg's waist and pushed her back against the desk again. Back and back and then Meg understood; she pushed herself up to sit on the desk and lie down, letting Frannie's hands spread her knees apart. "You Mounties are always working," Frannie said as her hands slipped up the insides of Meg's bared thighs.

It wasn't true, but Meg said "yes" anyway.

"I know that," Frannie told her, thumbs stroking gently over the lips of her vulva, "I do. You need to work hard to be the best." One thumb slipped deeper and found her clit, and Meg twisted involuntarily into the pressure. Frannie's hand slipped away.

"Yes," she said again, somewhat desperately, and then Frannie's fingers were opening her up and then Frannie's plastic cock was opening her up.

Frannie leaned down and said, "You need to relax more," which almost made Meg laugh, because she was not about to relax now. Certainly not now. She spread her legs wider around Frannie and Frannie's soft hands held her hips firmly. Every plastic ridge and whorl that she had traced with her tongue was jolting her now as it slid in and out, in and deeper and back and never letting up, constantly twisting inside of her as Frannie panted and growled and fucked her into the smooth cool desktop. She let Frannie hold her in place as she put one hand down below her rucked-up skirt. The sides of her fingers skidded off the wet plastic and she could feel that, farther in. It made her arch up her back to let Frannie in deeper as she drew her fingers up to rub harshly over her own clit.

"Yes," she moaned, jerking her body sideways in sudden pleasure before rolling back onto her back where it was easiest for Frannie to fuck her. She pressed her fingers down and moved them in fast hard circles; her other hand grabbed for anything and found Frannie's shirtsleeve. The side of Frannie's breast pressed against her wrist, and she thought about stripping away Frannie's clothing and touching her breasts, holding them in her hands and stroking the nipples and feeling the softness of her skin, but she only had one hand free. And she was going to come in a second anyway; she could feel it gathering, tightening inside of her around the hot hard motion where Frannie had leaned forward and nailed her just right, just perfectly the way she needed it, and that was for the best, really, because they didn't have a lot of time.

"Gonna have you," Frannie said, low and determined. "Gonna _have_ you."

Yes, Meg thought, and she closed her eyes and right there she was coming. And again, deliciously tight around the hard plastic. And again, and she was probably moaning out load. She kept twisting sideways until the angle on Frannie's strap-on was almost painful. Again, so hard she felt dizzy. She kept her hand on herself, bearing down on her clit, as she turned. Again, and Frannie's hand on her knee turned her back to lie flat on the desk. She felt limp, but her body pulled up for one final spasm as the last swirled ridge slipped free. Now she felt sticky, and used, and thoroughly satisfied.


End file.
